


when it breaks

by redwolves



Category: GreedFall (Video Game)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Denial of Feelings, Jealousy, Love Confessions, M/M, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-13 15:53:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21163292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redwolves/pseuds/redwolves
Summary: Kurt doesn't care about the two of them being together.Honest.





	when it breaks

It’s not that he’s jealous, Kurt tells himself.

His eyes follow Tristan’s hand as it settles between Vasco’s shoulder blades while the two of them are bent over the crafting table at camp. It slides down the length of Vasco’s spine, hugging the dip in his lower back as Vasco leans in to murmur something into Tristan’s ear, a gentle press of his lips to Tristan’s cheek where the mark edges out from underneath his beard. They’re probably not talking about crafting anymore.

As if sensing Kurt’s gaze lingering on them, Tristan glances over his shoulder to where Kurt sits in front of the campfire. Kurt holds Tristan’s curious gaze for a moment, long enough to not seem suspicious, before he averts his eyes and goes back to whittling the stick of wood with his knife. It’s not the first time during the trip Tristan or Vasco have been sneaking glances at him. He’s probably a bother to them.

Kurt is not jealous. They’re being painfully obvious about their little dalliance and it’s getting hard for him to ignore, that’s all.

_“I wondered if you ever felt lonely.” _

He barely remembers his answer, can only recall his spine tensing and the subtle frown pulling on Tristan’s brows, the flickering of hurt in his eyes that lingered in Kurt’s mind for days on end.

His rejection was not kind, tinged with fear and sharper for it, but a lot of time has passed since then. The ghost camps are gone, Hermann burned alive at the stake and Kurt has finally gained a sense of closure after these long years.

It leaves him alone with himself, watching from a distance as Tristan finds another who welcomes his affection without hesitation, eager for it, thankful for it and returning it tenfold.

Something heavy weighs in his chest as he watches Vasco lace his fingers together with Tristan’s as the two lovers lock eyes. A soft smile plays on Tristan’s lips as Vasco’s eyes flit down to Tristan’s mouth and Kurt feels ill.

He tosses his half-finished wooden carving aside, rising abruptly from the ground and slipping his knife back into its sheath. It draws attention onto him, but Kurt doesn’t look.

“Gonna take a leak,” he mutters as he stalks off into the forest, leaving the warm glow of the fire behind.

The cold settles into his bones as he moves in between the trees, but the distance does not ease his heart. If anything it makes the emptiness more pronounced as Kurt moves through the forest brush aimlessly. He keeps a mental map of the way back to camp, knows he’s being stupid because he’s practically asking for an ambush, but he needs to work off his restlessness.

Unfortunately the darkness of the woods leaves little for Kurt to focus on but his own thoughts, images and memories blending together to make his stomach churn.

Vasco and Tristan hadn’t been subtle the first time they had snuck off to Tristan’s bedroom in New Sérène, even less so afterwards when they appeared for dinner. Hickeys colored the skin between Vasco’s neck tattoos, Tristan’s curly hair that was usually meticulously styled a mess atop his head.

Kurt excused himself then, mind swirling with visuals he would rather not linger on. Now they all return to him once more as he wonders what Tristan and Vasco must be getting up to back at camp in his absence.

Would Tristan’s mouth latch onto Vasco’s neck again, sucking bruises into him while Vasco arches into the touch? Would Vasco’s hands grip into Tristan’s curls, holding onto him as they kissed, sparing no thought for anyone or anything else? Kurt doesn’t want to think about it, but he can’t seem to _stop_.

He imagines Vasco sitting on Tristan’s lap, chest to chest as their lips slot together, tongues sliding against each other, hips grinding in an obscene rhythm—Kurt stops walking, braces a hand against a tree as he breathes through the strange mixture of arousal and nausea coiling in his gut.

Why is he doing this to himself?

Frustrated, he turns around on his heel and marches back the way he came, though his anger is directed to no one but himself. He made his choice when he pushed Tristan away, there is no one else to blame for his stupidity.

The bewildering part of it all is that Kurt can’t tell what it is that has him twisted up more. He cares for Tristan—so much more than he should—but there is something about Vasco that stirs feelings inside of him that are fragile and new.

Kurt will catch Vasco’s eyes at times, staring at him with a look he can’t place but it always makes him feel seen, and it makes him feel vulnerable. Vasco has a way of pulling words out of Kurt’s mouth that edge too close to being suggestive, the way his lips curve in a not-quite smile doing funny things to Kurt’s head that he’d rather not examine too closely.

It’s as if he’s a teenager again, caught up in a childish infatuation with a dashing seafaring captain, which is ridiculous because Kurt is nearly a decade older and yet he is unsteady when it comes to Vasco, unsure of himself.

He returns to the camp, walking with what feels like stones in his gut as he thinks about what he feels for Tristan, what he feels for Vasco, how it knots him up inside to think of them _together_, but as he draws closer to the camp he pauses among the trees.

Two bodies are lying down by the fire, tangled with each other. Kurt’s mouth goes dry as he realizes Vasco is on his back, his coat off, Tristan on top of him slipping his hands underneath Vasco’s shirt while their lips are locked in a passionate kiss.

Kurt curses the way he reacts to it, the heat that pulses through his groin as he feels his trousers grow tighter and yet his heart aches sharply all the same, but it shouldn’t, because he should _know better_.

For a while he can’t seem to tear his gaze away, fantasy seeping through into reality as Tristan rolls his hips down into Vasco’s and Vasco’s fingers clutch at Tristan’s curls, breathing a moan into Tristan’s mouth that makes Kurt’s dick twitch and his fingers ball into fists by his side at the same time, blunt fingernails digging crescent shapes into the palm of his hand.

Coming back was a mistake. He has to get out of here.

Kurt takes a step back, and a twig snaps beneath his heel.

All three of them freeze.

Tristan pulls away from Vasco, turns his head to peer over his shoulder and somehow finds Kurt’s eyes in the dark, his startled expression shifting into a deep frown. Kurt wonders what his face must look like, for Tristan to look so concerned for him.

“Kurt—”

He turns around and walks away.

“Kurt!” Tristan calls after him, but he doesn’t listen.

He keeps walking, hears footsteps hurrying after him and wishes they would just leave him alone. Kurt is tired of this, tired of having to endure this self-inflicted torture.

It’s Vasco who catches up to him, jogging up from behind him to step in front of him, blocking Kurt’s path. He’s slightly out of breath, likely more so from kissing Tristan than running after Kurt, and Kurt looks away, doesn’t think he can hold Vasco’s piercing gaze.

“Where are you going?” Vasco demands. “You know wandering around like this is asking to get your throat slit.”

“Go back to Tristan, Vasco,” Kurt says wearily, moving to walk around him but Vasco steps in front of him again, a hand on his chest and Kurt halts, staring down at the fingers splayed on top of his armor.

“Tristan wants you to come back.” Vasco pauses, hands curling ever so slightly into the thick fabric of Kurt’s Coin Guard doublet. “And so do I.”

Kurt blinks, looking up to meet Vasco’s gaze, a subtle wrinkle between his dark brows as he stares at Kurt.

“You…” Kurt’s voice is hoarse, so he clears his throat before he tries again. “You seemed busy, I didn’t want to—”

“We were passing the time,” Vasco says quickly, sounding almost a little embarrassed as he glances away for a moment, releasing Kurt’s doublet. “Waiting for you to return.”

“Me?” Kurt raises his brows, baffled. “Why? I would think you- the two of you would appreciate some privacy.”

Vasco breathes out a long-suffering sigh. “I didn’t believe Tristan when he told me you were the oblivious sort, but now I’m starting to have my doubts.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kurt replies, defensiveness masked by an irritated tone. “Clearly I picked up on the fact that you wanted to have some time alone, so I don't see how you can call me oblivious.”

“Not _alone_, Kurt,” Vasco emphasizes, staring at him in that way again that makes Kurt feel bared.

Kurt hesitates, unsure of everything. “Not… alone?”

“Are you honestly going make me spell it out for you?” Vasco snipes, shifting his weight around on his feet in a way that almost seems anxious. “Tristan and I… we… ah…”

He’s flustered, Kurt realizes faintly, but before he can contemplate as to why, he hears another set of footsteps coming up from behind him.

“What are you two still doing over here?” Tristan asks as he walks up to them, standing beside Kurt and Vasco and glancing from one to the other before his gaze lingers on his lover. “Vasco?”

In the dim light of the campfire filtering in from between the trees, Kurt thinks he can almost see Vasco face darken with a flush.

“I was just about to tell him,” he mumbles.

Kurt scowls, only barely resisting the urge to take a cautious step back. “Tell me what?”

He looks at Tristan, who smiles lightly when their eyes meet and Kurt does his best to ignore the way his heart flutters. 

“Do you remember when I asked you if you were lonely?”

Kurt almost flinches at the unpleasant reminder. “I do.”

“Right.” Tristan’s smile fades as he takes a quiet breath, seeming to be working up to something, perhaps steeling his nerves and Kurt for the life of him can’t figure out what’s going on, what either Tristan or Vasco look so nervous about. “I thought… I was certain I had moved on from that. You made yourself pretty clear, and then Vasco and I—”

He doesn’t want to hear this, he _can’t_. “If you’re about to start rambling about how perfectly happy you are together, save it. I have eyes. I can see it without needing you to rub it in my face.”

That… came out more harshly than he intended.

Tristan’s eyes widen, mirrored by Kurt’s own panic flashing across his face.

“I- I didn’t mean—"

“Kurt,” Vasco interrupts sternly. “Please shut up.”

Kurt snaps his lips closed again, figuring he can’t make this worse than he already has and wishes halfheartedly the ground could just swallow him up and make him disappear.

Tristan doesn’t seem upset by his snapping, however. If anything, he’s smiling now, almost fond as he looks at Kurt and Kurt is more perplexed than ever.

“Are you jealous, Kurt?”

The words shoot straight through his heart as he turns his head away, breathes in deep; Kurt couldn’t have confirmed Tristan’s suspicions more clearly than if he had come out and answered with a yes. This is it, then. Tristan will gently turn him down, shattering whatever is left of him, leaving him as alone as he’d ever been—

He feels a touch on his hand through his gloves, looks down and finds Tristan’s fingers curling around it, holding it in his own. When he looks up at Tristan’s face, the gaze in his eyes is so _tender_, filled with affection that isn’t aimed at Vasco but at him, at _Kurt_.

“Don’t be,” Tristan says softly, and Kurt’s head is spinning.

“What… why are you…” He glances over at Vasco who is watching the two of them with a fond smile on his face, and nothing about this makes sense. “What is this?”

Tristan starts to laugh, still holding onto Kurt’s hand while Vasco lets out another deep sigh.

“What do you _think_, Kurt?” Vasco says.

“I think I’m dreaming,” Kurt responds weakly, and Vasco snorts before he reaches out and takes Kurt’s other hand in his own and Kurt is… he’s holding _both _of their hands now.

In his dream, obviously, because there’s no chance in hell this could ever happen in reality.

“I think,” Vasco says, speaking slowly as if to make sure Kurt is following along, “that we’ve both been in love with you this whole time and that you’ve been too thickheaded to notice.”

The words don't sink in, not at first. It's as if Kurt forgot the language, hearing Vasco speak in a foreign tongue. They're in love, he said. Both of them, with Kurt. Tristan and Vasco are in love with each other, _and with Kurt_.

Kurt’s lips part slightly in his shock as it finally dawns on him, looking from Vasco to Tristan, his heart pounding against his ribs like a drum.

“You- _both _of you?”

“I know it must be a lot to take in at once,” Tristan says, exchanging a look with Vasco. “But did you really not notice?”

They have both been shooting looks at him the whole trip, Kurt remembers. He assumed it was because they thought him a bother, but could it really be as Vasco said?

“I don’t know.” Kurt looks down at their hands, thinks slightly deliriously that if Vasco and Tristan started holding hands they’d form a perfect triangle. “I just assumed… I don’t know.”

“Do you need time to think?” Tristan asks, always so considerate. “Maybe we should—”

Kurt tightens his hold on Tristan’s hand when he tries to pull it away, thinks that even if this is a dream he’d be a fool to make the same mistake twice.

“No,” he says, voice rough in his throat as he looks at Tristan, can’t hide the longing in his words or his eyes. “I don’t need to think. Not anymore.”

Tristan carefully moves closer, almost cautious at first but more assured when he sees that Kurt isn’t backing away. He lifts his free hand to Kurt’s face, a caress of his fingers to Kurt’s cheek that makes Kurt’s eyes flutter shut—how many times has he thought about this? Imagined it, then shamefully denied it, repressing it inside him?

For a moment, there is nothing, but then he feels it, a hot breath brushing against his mouth, making butterflies flutter in his stomach. Tristan cups his cheek with his palm, and Kurt waits. There’s the softest brush against his lips, almost hesitant, but then a firm press and Kurt’s breath hitches in his throat as Tristan kisses him gently while Vasco’s hand squeezes his, fingers twining together.

It's perfect, more than he could've ever expected as he all but melts against Tristan, against his lips, grows weak at the way Tristan hums into his mouth. It's pure affection, warm and glowing in his chest as he lets himself go. Kurt’s doubt crumbles, collapses into itself when Tristan pulls back with a soft exhale and Kurt almost chases his mouth, but then Tristan steps aside and lets Vasco take his place.

Kurt no longer stands motionless, meets Vasco halfway as Vasco curls his free hand around the back of Kurt’s neck and tugs him close. His lips are more demanding than Tristan’s, the edge of his teeth shooting a thrill up Kurt’s spine.

It’s dizzying, a flood of emotions overwhelming him as Vasco’s tongue slides over his bottom lip, licking his way into Kurt’s mouth and then Tristan leans in to kiss and suck the skin beneath Kurt’s ear. Kurt pulls both his hands free, one arm curling around Vasco’s waist to pull him closer, the other reaching up to tangle his fingers in Tristan’s curls just like how he saw Vasco do it before.

They stand there and kiss for what feels like forever and yet is still not long enough. Vasco breaks away from Kurt to kiss Tristan next, though it’s more of a glide of tongues while Kurt watches with half-lidded eyes, dazed by how much he enjoys the sight of it when it hurt to watch before.

Tristan and Vasco are breathless when they pull apart, exchanging a look before they both turn to Kurt and start kissing his neck at the same time. Kurt’s legs go weak, stumbling a little and Vasco uses the imbalance to push him back against a tree, biting into his skin while Tristan sucks a bruise into his throat, like the ones Kurt saw on Vasco and it’s too good, too good to be true and too good all at once.

Kurt chokes back a groan, exhales a hot breath, fingers clenching into Vasco’s shirt and Tristan’s hair. They both pull back to grant him much-needed reprieve as Kurt all but sags against the tree, at a loss for words.

“Perhaps we should return to camp,” Vasco notes, finger idly tracing over the hickey Tristan left on Kurt’s neck. “You look like you need to lie down.”

“That… that would be good,” Kurt agrees dimly.

Tristan smiles at him, wrapping an around Kurt’s lower back. “Come on, then.”

The bonfire somehow feels so much warmer as the three of them settle down in front of it, their blankets rearranged beneath them to be side by side. Kurt lies in the middle with Tristan on his left and Vasco on his right, arms draped around his waist and his chest, legs tangling, heads resting on either of Kurt’s shoulders as they’re both tucked against his side and Kurt wonders if it’s possible for his heart to physically burst.

“I can’t believe you didn’t notice,” Vasco mutters against the crook of Kurt’s neck. “Tristan was hardly being subtle.”

“You are the _last _person to talk about being subtle,” Tristan replies with amusement. “If you recite me one more poem about blue eyes I’ll burn down the library.”

“Blue eyes?” Kurt notes curiously, and Vasco all but sputters.

“It wasn’t- I happened to find _one _verse—”

“Oh, he could wax prose about your eyes for hours if you let him,” Tristan told Kurt playfully. “It’s rather endearing.”

“Do I need to remind you that you wouldn’t shut up about Kurt when we first met?” Vasco points out, saying to Kurt, “The entire voyage of Teer Fradee was one endless monologue singing your praises.”

“I didn’t talk about him that often,” Tristan protests.

“Two mentions in every conversation at the minimum.” Vasco huffs a laugh. “It made _me_ jealous, at first.”

“So, how long have you both… been interested in me?” Kurt asks, feeling almost narcissistic asking it that way, but it was the truth. They were _both _in love with him, and Kurt still had a hard time wrapping his mind around that.

“Around the same time we fell in love with each other, I think,” Tristan answers thoughtfully.

But that was months ago. _Months_.

“I’m an idiot,” Kurt concludes; here were two men who had apparently been utterly smitten with him all this time, and he hadn’t noticed. He was so caught up in his own feelings that the thought hadn’t so much as occurred to him before.

He feels Vasco smile against his neck and Tristan’s hand slide up and down his chest in a soothing motion, their weight against Kurt grounding and comforting in a way he can’t explain.

“It all worked out,” Tristan says, tone soft and content as he grabs Vasco’s hand in his own, tangling on top of Kurt’s chest. “That’s all that matters.”

Kurt hums as he closes his eyes, thinks his arms are definitely going to fall asleep in this position with both Vasco and Tristan on top of him, but he doesn’t care. The thought is actually pleasing, in a way.

There are still things they need to talk about, things Kurt needs clarity on because this is a first for him, is probably a first for the two of them as well. But that can wait until the morning.

For right now, he’s happy.


End file.
